Soaring violence against women exposes systemic failures, and complicity
by Ghafar Bugti
The chilling headlines emerging from Punjab over the past month have laid bare a harrowing truth: Pakistan’s urban centres, frequently celebrated as beacons of progress, are catastrophically failing their women. From the shadowy suburban gambling dens of Vehari to the manicured enclaves of Lahore’s gated communities, women’s bodies have been reduced to arenas of male entitlement, systemic apathy, and societal betrayal. This is not just a crisis — it is a profound moral unraveling, a stark indictment of a system that has turned a blind eye to the violence and injustice inflicted upon half its population.
The case of the two teenage sisters in Gujranwala is a harrowing testament to the depths of despair and trauma that systemic abuse can inflict. For years, the elder sister, just 16 years old, endured the unspeakable horror of being raped allegedly by her own father, while the younger sister, only 12, faced two attempted assaults. Trapped in a nightmare with no recourse, the girls doused their father in petrol from a motorcycle and set him ablaze as he slept. Their mothers, both married to the man, were aware of the abuse but failed to intervene, leaving the sisters to bear their suffering in silence. This tragic act of vengeance is an indictment of a society that allows such atrocities to fester unchecked, exposes the layers of complicity, fear, and neglect that force victims to take justice into their own hands.
The case of the MPhil student from Government College University in Lahore is another chilling reminder of how trust and technology are increasingly weaponised to exploit and terrorise women. Lured to an apartment in Bahria Town by a male friend under pretenses, the young woman was subjected to a brutal gang rape by three men, including someone she had trusted. To compound her trauma, the assailants filmed the crime, using the footage as a tool for blackmail before abandoning her on Outfall Road. This incident not only highlights the vulnerability of women in urban spaces but also exposes the sinister ways in which social media and digital tools are manipulated to perpetuate violence and silence victims.
The tragic case of the four-year-old girl in Sarai Alamgir is a heart-wrenching reminder that even the most innocent and vulnerable among us are not safe from the pervasive violence that plagues society. While walking to tuition with her brother, the young child was kidnapped, subjected to unspeakable brutality, and ultimately murdered. Her body was discovered in a sack on an empty plot, bearing the evidence of rape and murder. The police, after launching a DNA-based investigation, arrested a suspect, but this small measure of justice cannot undo the unimaginable pain inflicted on the child and her family. This is a moral failing, a stark reflection of a society that has failed to protect its children.
The incident highlights how women are treated as property in some communities.
The incident in Vehari is a grotesque manifestation of toxic masculinity and the dehumanization of women in certain communities. A gambler, after losing a bet, callously offered his wife as a “prize” to his friend, subjecting her to a horrific act of rape. The rapist filmed the assault and used the footage as a tool of blackmail, threatening to release it online if she dared to speak out. This appalling act exposes the deeply entrenched misogyny that reduces women to mere property, exchangeable at the whims of men. Islamabad, the centre of power has no exception. According to the 2024 data, 152 sexual assaults.
The contrast between Balochistan’s tribal communities and Punjab’s urban centres in responding to gender-based violence is striking and revealing. In Balochistan, the abduction of Asma Jattak sparked immediate and collective outrage, with communities blocking highways, and demanding justice with a unified voice. This forceful response stands in stark contrast to the apathy and hypocrisy that plague Punjab’s cities.
Islamabad, the centre of power, has no exception. According to the 2024 data, 152 sexual assaults and 890 kidnappings were reported in the city. This paints a grim picture, but even these numbers are likely a gross underestimate due to widespread underreporting. Survivors often choose silence over seeking justice, knowing the system is stacked against them. Convictions are rare, trials drag on, and police stations are often spaces where victims are mocked or further traumatised. This systemic failure reflects a society that pays lip service to women’s rights while perpetuating a culture of impunity and silence.
The Anti-Rape Act of 2021, once considered as a landmark step toward justice for survivors of sexual violence, has proven to be little more than a hollow promise. Specialised courts, a cornerstone of the legislation, remain non-operational in many regions; forensic labs, critical for gathering evidence, are underfunded and ill-equipped, further undermining the pursuit of justice. Perhaps most devastating is the betrayal by those meant to protect the vulnerable: guardians, entrusted with the care of minors, are often revealed as perpetrators themselves, exploiting their positions of trust to inflict harm.
Until the government commits to implementing the Anti-Rape Act in letter and spirit—by funding forensic infrastructure, operationalizing specialized courts, and holding guardians accountable—the law will remain a symbol of unfulfilled potential, and survivors will continue to be denied the justice they deserve.
Behind these statistics lies a society steeped in toxic patriarchy. The Vehari gambling case reflects how women are dehumanised as stakes in games; economic disempowerment further exacerbates exploitation; scams like fake job offers continue to lure women into dangerous situations.
To dismiss this as Punjab’s problem alone is delusional. This is a national emergency demanding urgent action. Operationalise specialised gender violence courts with survivor-centric protocols; challenge patriarchal norms through public campaigns involving clerics, educators, and media; reform guardianship laws to protect orphans and minors from predatory caregivers; hold institutions accountable by publishing quarterly crime data, naming negligent officials, and rewarding communities that prioritise women’s safety.
Pakistan cannot claim progress while half its population lives in fear. The state’s failure to protect women isn’t just incompetence—it’s complicity. If institutions won’t act, citizens must: boycott neighbourhoods sheltering rapists, fund survivor-led NGOs, and publicly shame complicit leaders.
The time for empty promises is over. Only through collective action—rooted in accountability, empathy, and justice—can Pakistan begin to dismantle the structures that perpetuate this cycle of violence and fear. The nation’s moral integrity depends on it.
There is a need for confrontingthecrisiswith urgency and resolve, or risk losing the moral fabric that holds society together. The voices of survivors, the courage of communities, and the demand for justice must guide this reckoning. Anything less is a betrayal of the nation’s future.
Abdul Ghaffar Bugti is a Balochistan-based columnist and human rights advocate focusing on gender inequality and education.